


That's Just You

by nomis99



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, At least it's here amirite?, F/M, Fluff, Scott being an adorable lovable dork, Smut in the second half don't worry, Technologically incompetent!Scott, Tessa Being Tessa, This is nearly two months late but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomis99/pseuds/nomis99
Summary: "It isn’t until she’s grabbed her towel, let down her hair and shut the bathroom door that Scott starts to feel like there’s something he meant to say to her but forgot.It isn’t until he can hear the water running before he realizes what it is.Fuck."Also known as the one in which Scott messes up very minorly and freaks out about it majorly because he's Scott.OR the one where Scott accidentally sends a message intended for Tessa to the SOI group chat.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello there. A few months ago I would have refused to read RPF because I thought it was creepy and crossing a line when they're real people but . . . here we are. I blame Scott Patrick Moir for a) making me believe in love again and b) ruining literally all other men on the planet. Actually, I credit both Tessa and Scott for a. And for being such disgustingly beautiful, amazing, talented lovesick idiots who made me fall in love with them and write this. So here we are. Thanks for falling down this hellhole with me. 
> 
> This is also the first fanfiction I have ever written other than a creative writing assignment I had nearly 7 years ago in middle school where I had to write an alternate epilogue to a book we'd studied. In other words, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING SO PLEASE DON'T BE TOO CRITICAL.
> 
> Part 2 should be up in a couple of days, so stay tuned!
> 
> Oh yeah, and I hope you enjoy this!

Tessa Virtue has never been a morning person.

 

This, to put it lightly, is a well-known fact. It’s something that she’s stated in countless interviews, been teased about mercilessly, and demonstrated god only knows how many times throughout her life to her family, her friends, and, perhaps most of all, to Scott. She finds no appeal in getting up before she has to, before even the sun bothers to rise. She doesn’t enjoy the sensation of her eyelids being too heavy to continuously open and close, nor does she like it when her brain takes unprecedented amounts of time to perform even the simplest of tasks.

 

Therefore, it comes as no surprise that the morning of her twenty-ninth birthday, she’s in a deep slumber, lying dead still in the middle of her hotel room bed, face pressed into her pillow and arm strung around a slightly more well-rested Scott.

 

It isn’t until nearly an hour later that the hotel room shows any signs of life whatsoever.

 

“Tess,” Scott whispers against her hair, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek gently. “You up?”

 

Nothing.

 

“It’s your birthday,” he adds, smiling as he states the overly-obvious.

 

Although she’s still half-asleep (and has no intention of getting up any time soon), the fact that Scott just told her that it was her birthday (and she could practically _hear_ that smile) as if she didn’t already know is enough to make her simper ever so faintly for a second, eyes remaining shut. _He’s just like a little kid enthusiastically waking his parents up to tell them it’s his birthday_. _Only he’s excited to be telling her that it’s her birthday._

 

Too tired to open her mouth or form words, she tightens her grip around his waist, tugging lightly to indicate she wants him to move closer. He does as he’s requested, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in closely so that her head is resting on his shoulder.

 

He _loves_ moments like these, moments where she pulls him into their own little world, blocked and protected from outside forces, alone in peace and quiet and surrounded by only each other. He loves being able to have all of her, uninterrupted, not a single person needing to speak with or draw one of them away, no social obligations requiring them to separate, no professional responsibilities needing their attention. It’s just them, and in these moments, they are the only two people in the world who matter. Time stands completely still for them.

 

Unfortunately, time in the real world continues to pass, and as the alarm clock approaches 10:15, Scott begins to realize that if they both want to shower, get dressed and ready and leave the hotel room while it’s still breakfast hours (that, and without their castmates wondering where they are, since he’s been through enough teasing already) they should probably get up.

He takes the liberty of going first, reluctantly but carefully unraveling himself from Tessa and gently pressing a kiss to her forehead before heading off to shower. Truth be told, had she been more awake and in a good mood (and really, the two go hand in hand) he probably would have made a sly pass at her and offered to let her join him in the shower, but he can tell she’s tired and would rather give her fifteen more minutes of undisturbed sleep while he can.

 

To his great surprise, when he returns fifteen minutes later freshly showered and clothed, he finds her in a sort of half-slumped up position in bed, eyes on her phone, a small, lingering smile plastered on her face. He stands there for a moment, admiring the way she looks in the morning, all tired eyes yet to be fully woken up by coffee, her pale, freckled skin in its most natural state. He loves any and every look she dons—and he finds her just as beautiful now as he does when she’s all dolled up head to toe—but there’s something about the way she is when she’s waking up in the morning that he particularly finds enchanting. No makeup, no fancy clothes—not even any caffeine yet—just genuine, unfiltered, unscripted Tessa, arguably also in one of her most vulnerable states. It’s a Tessa only few will ever truly know, and he counts himself as lucky to be one of them.

 

“Hey,” he says, moving toward the bed and leaning over to properly kiss her good morning (a ritual to which he is most loyal). “Didn’t expect to see you up. Thought I was going to have to drag you ‘outta bed, to be honest.”

 

“’Couldn’t go back to sleep,” she admits, her expression somewhere between disappointment and slightly amused. She yawns. “Not after my pillow up and left me,” she adds, turning to look at him. “Rude.”

 

“You’re free to continue using me as your pillow in the shower, you know,” he adds smugly, eyes teasing. “Or for anything else, really.”

 

She smiles a full-on grin, momentarily rolling her eyes and playfully smacking him on the chest. Her smile is one of his most favourite sights _ever_ , and it fills him with warmth knowing he’s already managed to make pre-caffeinated Tessa full-on grin so early in the morning.

 

“Right,” she says a moment later, sighing briefly before sitting up and putting her phone down on the bedside table. “I’ll go shower quickly so that we can go get some actual food in our stomachs. I’m starting to crave toast.” She yawns. “And a heavy dose of caffeine.”

 

“Sounds good,” he says, playfully slapping her butt as she walks towards the bathroom.

 

It isn’t until she’s grabbed her towel, let down her hair and shut the bathroom door that Scott starts to feel like there’s something he meant to say to her but forgot.

 

It isn’t until he can hear the water running before he realizes what it is.

 

_Fuck._

_Holy fuck. He completely forgot to actually wish her a happy birthday._

His eyes widen instantly, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. How could he have forgotten to wish the most important person in his life a happy birthday on her _birthday?_

 

A stream of worry rushes through him, his heart racing like mad. _Had she noticed? Well of course she’d noticed! Was she mad, though? She didn’t seem it, but perhaps she really was disappointed and trying not to show it. Oh god, Moir, you’ve been right next to the love of your life practically the entire morning and couldn’t remember to say two measly words. What kind of poor excuse are you right now?!_

The entire morning spent together so far, and all he’d been able to do was poke fun at her sleeping habits, joke about wanting to have sex with her, and slap her butt as she walked away.

 

He truly and thoroughly hates himself for a moment.

It’s true that he has arrangements for later that day—a delivered cake, an early dinner/very late lunch with friends from Montreal, and not to mention the birthday card he’s bought but has yet to write in—but the one thing that matters the most on someone’s birthday are easily those two simple, magical words: happy birthday.

 

The one thing he’d forgotten to do.

 

Just then, he gets a slightly ridiculous idea and wrestles with it for a minute before walking over to his phone and lifting it off the nightstand.

 

Opening it up, he goes to his messenger app and finds her name there. His text to her is simple but clear:

 

_Happy birthday from your secret admirer._

He sends it before he can start second-guessing himself.

He knows she won’t get it until later, until after he’s apologized profusely for failing his duty as whoever the hell he is to her (and they’ve stopped even trying to put labels on themselves at this point), wished her a happy birthday a thousand times and told her how much he loves her (though he figures he should probably save _something_ romantic for the card).

 

But he knows Tessa, and knows this will only make her laugh, his letting his love for her override his overall distaste for technology.

 

He sits on the edge of the bed after that, anxious for her to get out of the shower, anxious to have her in his arms again.

 

_The longer she spends in the shower the longer she probably thinks he’s been taking her for granted._

Even just thinking about it makes Scott’s stomach slightly uneasy, his breath quickening ever so slightly, his fingers inadvertently tapping the duvet.    

 

The fact that she is with him is not lost on him; in fact, he doesn’t think it ever could be. He remembers all too well how he used to treat her, the way he’d let his moodiness and frustration and stress all build up and affect their relationship. He distinctly recalls what it felt like to not give a damn, to ignore her efforts to work on their off-ice relationship, to continually fail to make her a priority. Perhaps even worse, he remembers what it felt like to feel bad for his actions but for some reason or other, not be able to bring himself to apologize for them.

 

He wants to shake his younger self for being so stupid. He wants to go back in time and slap young Scott in the face and yell _wake the fuck up, this woman is the single most important person in your life and you’re goddamn blind if you can’t see that. She’s the love of your life, you idiot!_

He will never be able to make it all up to her, and even though she’s told him a hundred times before that _it’s forgiven_ , _it’s done_ and _it’s in the past_ , he isn’t so sure he’ll ever be able to fully forgive himself. But he will never stop trying to show her how much he loves her, how much he’s always loved her, even if he was too immature, too absent, too unaware to realize it then.

 

His phone buzzes but he doesn’t check it, doesn’t do anything but sit and wait for Tessa to get out of the shower, wait for his chance to make things right.

 

It buzzes twice. It buzzes a third time. Four times.

 

He finally gives in, getting up to turn it on silent to ensure whatever persistent message or notification or email he’s received is put away for later, for a _better damn time_.

 

He presses the home button, only to immediately realize that something is off. He has four messages from four of his different teammates, and none of them make any sense, unless—

God. Oh god. Oh _please_ no.

 

He goes to his messenger app, pulls open the chat to which he sent his former message—the chat in which he can _clearly_ see Tessa’s name at the top of—and opens it up to the overview. His hands shake as it confirms his worst fear.

 

_Tessa, Chiddy, Meagan, Eric, Kaitlyn, Andrew, Kaetlyn, Gabby, Elvis, Javier & Jeffrey_

 

_SHIT._

 

The _fucking_ group chat, which ever-so-organized Tessa created _herself_ , designed to keep everyone up to date with everything and have any easy way of communicating with one another is now being used as a game of ‘who can tease Scott the most about his idiotic text,’ and his friends spare him no mercy.

 

Kaetlyn: _Is that what you call a secret?_

 

Chiddy: _I’d tell you to get a room but we all know you already have one_.

 

Kaitlyn: _Oh man, Tessa will love this._

 

Gabby: _*gif of woman sipping tea*_

 

Scott can practically _see_ their smug faces from behind the screens, their snickering grins vividly coming alive in his mind. _Just Scott Moir, doing what he always does and doing what he does best: being a blind-sighted, adorable, lovesick idiot._

 

He’s already trying to figure out a way to avoid having to interact with any of them ever again when he hears the bathroom door open, and out walks Tessa, freshly showered in nothing but her white housecoat, looking all too content and unphased for what he presumes is about to follow.

 

He opens his mouth to say something, and he truly _does_ mean to say _something_ , but he is still trying to figure out where the actual _hell_ to start, and the result is him standing there like a fool, mouth wide open and eyes dilated.

 

“What’s wrong?” she questions lightly, the smallest amount of concern beginning to pool in her eyes, a look he knows too well and _oh god, he didn’t mean to make her worry, he doesn’t want her to worry, she should not feel worried on her birthday, especially about something he did. Or didn’t do._

And although Scott Moir considers himself to be a fairly articulate person, he somehow manages to respond in an even messier way than his half-prepared spiel sounded in his head.

 

“I didn’t mean to. I mean _to not_ say it but then I did but I sent it wrong and now you weren’t supposed to see that, well no _they weren’t_ but now they have and I just don’t want you to be mad and I kind of want to hide out here for the rest of my life.”

 

The final part is said in a rushed tone and Tessa can barely make out his words at the end, let alone what any of it meant. Scott too seems aware that what he said made absolutely no sense, and his hands are already running through his hair, his breaths slightly short.

 

“I don’t—" she starts but doesn’t even know how to finish. “What are you talking about?”

 

Before he has a chance to speak her phone lights up silently not too far away, her lockscreen flooded with messages. And although she doesn’t instinctively pay any attention to it, the quick but terrified gaze in its direction that comes from Scott’s eyes tells her she _might_ just find her answer there.

 

Scott doesn’t have the heart to stop her from reaching for her phone, nor does he desire to try to conceal any of this from her. Regardless, he’s internally freaking out and attempting to prepare his heartfelt apologies as he prays she isn’t too mad as she picks up her phone, leans against the bed, and opens it up.

 

There is an awful moment of pure silence as her eyebrows furrow, her eyes skimming along one direction to the other, her mouth left slightly pursed, and Scott starts to wonder if he should just fall on his knees in front of her and beg her forgiveness.

 

But then something both amazing and overwhelmingly relieving happens.

 

She laughs.

 

Not a shallow laugh, or a brief chuckle, but a real, genuine, heartfelt laugh. Her head is tilted back, her eyes crinkled with amusement, her hands coming up to momentarily cover her mouth in disbelief.

 

She’s still giggling when she first speaks.

 

“Why would you-”

 

“I didn’t mean to, Tess,” he cuts her off, slightly frantic. He takes a deep breath. “I mean, I messed up, and I had this whole plan to fix it, but I only messed up again.”

 

Her laugh had allowed _something_ in him to relax, to unwind, to finally freaking breathe- but he is still reeling in the bad taste of his actions and something deep inside him won’t let them go.

 

“What are you talking about?” she questions gently, a newfound look of slight worry in her eyes.

 

He sighs heavily and sits down on the edge of the bed, holding out his hand as an invitation for her to join him. She sits down beside him and he releases her hand, but not before placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, the first of many actions he plans to take in order to apologize to her.

 

“I forgot to wish you a happy birthday,” he says quietly, failing to look her directly in the eye.

 

But it wasn’t just that.

 

It was the fact that he had been unable to remember to do such a such a small menial task, that she woke up on her birthday to him teasing her instead of telling her how much he loved her, that he couldn’t even sense that there’d been something he’d forgotten to do until she stepped into the shower. The last thing he wants is for her to ever feel like he’s taking her for granted, and even though she seems relatively unphased by the situation at hand, he’s still disappointed with himself because he knows he can do so much better. _And she only deserves the very best._

“Is . . . that it?” she questions, and he can tell from her tone of voice that she’s not judging him, that she understands he must feel shit about this for a reason most likely deeper than this, and that she just wants to know whether or not there had been anything else bothering him.

 

“I guess,” he says, honestly. “That and the fact that I teased you when I should have been worshipping you.” This time he’s able to look into her eyes as he speaks, and he finds hers to be concentrating hard.

 

“I’m not mad at you,” she says plainly, and as she speaks she reaches over to intertwine her hand in his, pulling it into the small space between them. “And I think you’re aware that neither of those things are big enough to really matter, either. So can you please tell me what’s really going on?”

 

He looks at her, her green eyes staring at him innocently, her hand holding his tightly and _god he loves this woman,_ even if he can’t believe she’s the one consoling him when it’s her birthday and she really shouldn’t have to deal with anyone else’s problems today.

 

He takes a deep breath and speaks before he can think twice, before he’s even sure of exactly what he wants to say.

 

“Tess, I love you. I don’t want you to ever forget that, and I don’t want to ever forget to tell you that. I never want you to feel taken for granted and I’m terrified of messing up and doing just that because you’re the most incredible woman who ever lived and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fathom how you’re with me, and _god_ knows I don’t deserve you, and—”

 

His words are cut off by a hot pair of lips pressing deeply into his, and two soft, gentle hands, wrapping around the back of his neck, fingers stroking the sides and instantly stopping and diminishing any further words that had tried to voice themselves.

 

He knows these lips inside out, like a route he’s memorized so well by now that he may as well throw away the map. Every instinct reaches out, his body reacting before his mind even knows what’s going on, desperate to prove to her how much he loves her.

 

But his conscious is still weighing him down, and he gently pulls back, his forehead pressed against hers, his hands on her hips. Half of him wants to know why she decided to kiss him like that and the other half is dealing with the fact that his body is screaming at him to go back to what they were just doing.

After a moment Tessa pulls back just enough to look at him again, and when he meets her eyes he can see that they’re half-filled with tears. Not sad, hurt or upset tears— these are the happy emotional kind. The kind he likes best.

 

“Can I say something?” she asks calmly, the edges of her mouth curving ever so slightly upwards, and Scott cannot help but marvel in the way she _always_ seems to calm him down, no matter what.

 

“Anything.”

 

“Promise you won’t cut me off with some degrading comment about yourself?”

 

“I— yeah, I promise.” He’ll give her whatever she wants, and she knows it. She looks around the room for a second, almost as if she’s unsure of where to start.

 

“Scott,” she says, turning to look at him again. “I love you. And that’s why I’m not going to pretend that fifty percent of what you just said about yourself wasn’t absolute crap. Because the fact that you seem to be terrified of taking me for granted is a pretty huge indicator that you’re not about to.” He is focused intently on a spot just beside her shoulder, and she can tell his mind is hard at work. She briefly pauses to think before deciding to play her strengths to get what she wants. “Can I ask you to do one more thing?”

 

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation, like the answer was so obvious she needn’t have asked.

 

Tessa sucks in a breath before beginning.

 

“Promise me you’ll never think you don’t deserve me ever again.”

 

Her voice is soft but her eyes are fierce, looking at him with a fire he recognizes all too well, a fire that means Tessa Virtue is pursuing something extremely important to her and will not stop until she gets what she wants and is satisfied with the results.

 

He sits there, stunned, not knowing how to respond. Tessa seems to recognize this, so she continues.

 

“I’m serious,” she says, gently gathering his hands in hers and placing them in her lap. “I don’t want you to ever think you’re not worthy of my love when you’re literally the epitome of every straight woman’s dream man. You’re— you’re so good to me that I don’t even know how to put it into words. You make me feel like the luckiest woman alive whenever I’m around you, and hell, you make me feel like that even when I’m not. I’ve never met someone so close to an actual walking rom-com. You make me want to melt.” She’s saying every lovey-dovey thought about Scott that’s ever crossed her mind, and she doesn’t give a damn. He needs this— needs to know how incredible he is to her. “And don’t even start trying to contradict me with our history, okay? We both fucked up, but we can’t let it shape what we have now. So please,” she adds, her voice slightly shaky by the end because _goddamn_ his eyes are staring into her soul—and she now realizes that they’re glossy with tears, and that only makes her even _more_ emotional— and she loves him so much, even when he’s acting like a fool. “Promise me you’ll never think you’re not worthy of me ever again.”

 

By the time she spews out her final words she feels two tears sliding down her cheeks, unaware that they had even been forming. Scott immediately wipes them up with his right thumb, his left hand still clutching tightly to hers.

 

“I promise,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss her forehead and wrap his arms around her. “But I’ll still spend every waking minute for the rest of my life trying to prove how grateful I am to have you. Deal?”

 

“You don’t even have to try.” She’s smiling now, and it’s a look of pure love. “That’s just you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this is so late. I meant to post it much earlier, but my grandma moved, my cousin had a beautiful baby girl (who you know I'm going to turn into a VM stan as soon as she can walk, let's be real), I kept picking up extra shifts at work and man on man did writing this turn out to take more time and thought than I'd expected (y'all seriously don't want to know how long writing the first chapter alone took me lmao). But it's here now, and I'm actually pretty proud of it. I know I have tons of work left to do as a writer, and I have some more headcanons and fic ideas I'd love to explore to expand my potential, but for now let's focus on this (also I'm probably rambling at this point).
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

If Tessa and Scott had the slightest shred of hope that their friends would attempt to restrain themselves even the smallest amount when they meet up with them in the hotel breakfast bar for brunch, all hope is lost as soon as they arrive.

 

The minute they walk into the bar they immediately know they’re in for it. Every single one of the CSOI cast is there, huddled amongst each other, several smaller tables shuffled closer together. Bits of half-finished toast and scrambled eggs are scattered across plates, coffee cups wrapped around hands, and, perhaps most noticeably of all, laughter is emerging from the area at no subtle rate.

 

For a moment Scott briefly contemplates grabbing Tessa and running back up to their room to order room service—and he even voices as much to her—but she simply smiles and chuckles lightly before briefly squeezing his hand and marching right into the bar. If he’s being honest, he’s both horrified and very much in awe of the way she just handled that, even if his mind is screaming at her to come back.

 

The cast notices them immediately (and, just as Scott had suspected, with faces resembling a mixture of smugness, exasperation and amusement), but the taunting doesn’t begin _immediately. Not quite yet._

Because as much as their friends love to tease them about their antics, they are, first and foremost, their friends, and will always ensure they live up to the title.

 

Various voices cheerily call out “happy birthday!” as they appear in front of the group, some of them getting up to hug Tessa. Elvis teasingly calls it her “happy almost thirty,” and Javier says she “doesn’t look a day over twenty-eight,” to which Scott playfully slaps him on the arm.

 

Still, they know the tormenting is coming. Their friends may be all generous and silent on the matter now, but Scott knows it’ll only take until everyone has wished Tessa a happy birthday and made obligated small talk for the comments to start rolling in.

 

Their castmates, as it turns out, cannot even contain themselves enough to start teasing.

 

It all starts when Tessa and Scott sit down to join them, plates full of food and their chairs _conspicuously_ close together (as always). Kaetlyn and Gabby momentarily meet each other’s eyes and just _look_ at each other across the table, and it’s enough to make them both burst out laughing.

 

Scott immediately goes red and starts thinking of how he’d love to sink into the floor and cease to exist; meanwhile, everyone else has started contagiously giggling as well, their faces focused on their tables, eyes sparkling with amusement.

 

It isn’t until he hears the sweet, unmistakable sound of Tessa’s voice beside him that he realizes _she’s laughing too._

 

Tessa glances at Scott, and simply cannot fathom how _adorable_ he looks right now, all blushed cheeks and raised eyebrows, a look of utter and accepted defeat on his face.

 

“Oh Scott,” she says, smiling, bringing her hand up to his arm and attempting to control the laughter in her throat. “I love you.”

 

And _he’s done for_. Even after twenty-one years, more than two of those being together as a couple, those words being used more times than he’d ever dare to count, they still feel like magic to him, like a warm hug to the soul.

 

And somehow, even though he knows his tormenting is nowhere near being done, in this moment he feels completely content _._

And so long as he has his voice, he will never not say those words back to her.

 

“I love you too,” he says, grinning as he glances up at her, his embarrassed expression nowhere near being close to disappearing anytime in the near future.

“I’d pretend to be disgusted,” says Eric, rolling his eyes dramatically. “But that’s the cutest thing I’ve seen all day.”

 

 

Overall, the day goes better than either of them could have hoped.

 

Tessa is delighted by the cake Scott orders from the bakery, her mouth dropping open at the sight of it.

 

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims, turning around to hug him tightly. “That’s amazing!” He tries not to pride himself _too_ much in this small victory, but her face lighting up automatically does the same to his, and _man oh man,_ he will never get tired of seeing her this happy.

 

They have a lovely early dinner with their friends from B2ten, chatting and catching up on everything and anything they can think of. It’s times like these when Scott realizes just how _crazy_ busy a life he lives, his friends bringing up events and activities that even _he’d_ forgotten they’d committed themselves to. Tessa, on the other hand, knows about each and every upcoming occasion, every media day, every charity event, every business meeting. She has all the dates and locations and preparation needed for said events stored _somewhere_ in the back of her head. It’s times like these where Scott swears she isn’t human. She’s simply too incredible.

 

Before leaving they greet a couple of girls who turn out to be fans, trading a photo of the four of them for some selfies and a small chat with their new acquaintances.

 

Soon enough it’s showtime, and everything is going as it should be, completely normally, until they’re doing Shape of You.

Scott _loves_ Shape of You, and Tessa knows it. He’s always been an open and honest person about his feelings and affections (and he has a crazy ton of them for Tessa, frankly) so getting to simply be himself—all flirty and playful—is always fun.

 

But tonight, Tessa decides to experiment with turning the tables on him a little. Sure, she can be flirty, seductive, and straight-up raunchy as hell on the ice (hello, Maneater and Say it Right), but none of her actions are ever done out of character. He’s always been the one to sneak unchoreographed kisses and caresses into their performances, which is something she will definitely never complain about.

 

She wants to feel that energy. She wants to feel that power and see his reaction as he realizes what she’s doing. She wants to reveal a new side of herself to him, something that will ideally both shock him and torture him sweetly.

 

So when she’s pushing Scott back with her hands, she smiles, lifts her right leg up, and nudges the stool behind him from between his legs. It glides backwards slowly.

 

He looks at her as if she just broke the law. She knows _exactly_ what she just did, and her facial expression is saying _ha_.

 

He can barely contain himself for the rest of the number.

 

He wants to say something to her after they step backstage to get changed for the next number, wants to know _why_ she just went and teased him like that, or what on earth could have possessed her enough to try such a thing. But he knows that there are things he wants to say about what she just did that would definitely not be appropriate in public, nor would they make getting through the rest of the night any easier, so he chooses to bite his tongue and wait until later. Tessa seems to understand his silence, because she too remains quiet as a bird regarding what she just did.

 

It feels like an eternity by the time the show is over, the meet and greet is complete, and they’re able to finally head back to the hotel.

 

Scott’s exhausted, and truth be told, he wouldn’t complain if he could just crash and sleep for ten hours and resume consciousness in the morning, but apparently Tessa has other ideas.

 

He barely manages to drop their bags on the floor and shut the hotel room door before she presses him against it and kisses him. _Hard._

 

This, quite frankly, is never something he will complain about. Even if his bones ache of exhaustion.

 

He kisses her back fiercely, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other one coming up under her shirt to brush against her toned stomach.

 

He _loves_ it when she initiates things. They are both silently aware of just how incredibly busy they’ve been with the tour (as well as all their other commitments, which don’t pause due to a skating tour), often having no more energy left after rehearsals, shows and meet and greets to do anything other than sluggishly attempt to brush their teeth, remove and undo makeup and hair, and pass out in each other’s arms.

 

He’d missed this—missed having his hands all over her bare skin, his lips on hers. He’d missed being able to shudder at her touch and feel her pressed up against him, her hands entangled in his hair.

 

Apparently, so had she.

 

He quickly manages to work her shirt off (years of experience do tend to help with that kind of thing), briefly removing his arms to do the same with his. She reaches over and kisses his neck, his shoulders, his chest. A moan escapes his throat without him even realizing but he doesn’t care because she drives him fucking _crazy_ when she does that and she knows it.

 

She fucking _relishes_ it.

 

His right hand is just sneaking under the waistband of her pants when she pulls him forward, spins around and starts pushing him toward the bed.

 

He kisses her desperately, hands sliding over her ass, and he can feel his pulse beating furiously in his groin.

 

He just can’t believe how lucky he is to have the woman of his dreams want him like this, to reciprocate every passionate and lust-filled yearning he has. Her desire for him is easily the biggest turn-on he’s ever experienced, and he can’t get enough of it, doing his best with every ounce of his body to let her know that the feeling is _definitely_ reciprocated.

 

His legs hit the edge of the bed and puts his left arm down below him to steady them, his right arm wrapping around her waist, clumsily pulling them both onto the bed.

 

Her hand stretches below the waistband of his pants, her fingers beginning to fondle him gently and he swears he can feel every single inch of his body react, and everywhere is burning up from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes.

 

And he’d have it no other way.

 

No matter how many times they’ve done this, no matter how many times they’ve kissed each other senseless and let their hands roam all over each other’s bodies and grasped and pulled at each other desperately, he will never get tired of it.

 

He will never not want to feel her bare skin on his, to kiss every inch of her body, to feel the weight of her wrapped around him. He will never not want to experience the indescribable sensation of being inside her, completely engulfed by her body and soul. He will never not want to hear her moan in his ear, to feel her shudder underneath him.

 

Never.

 

He will never not want Tessa Virtue.

 

 

 

It is completely dark when Tessa wakes up, save for the dim lamp on the desk across from the bed.

 

She goes to move her arm and discovers she is completely enwrapped in a sleeping Scott, his body pressed against her back, his face buried in her long, dark hair.

 

Although she loves him and wishes she could stay surrounded by his warmth forever, she really needs to pee, so she slowly and unenthusiastically untangles herself from his grasp. She grabs a pair of underwear and a large t-shirt from her opened suitcase, drowsily pulling them on before heading off to the washroom.

 

When she returns she manages to muster up the courage to stare the bright alarm clock on her bedside table in the face, and it reads 1:43 AM. She’s about to grab her toothbrush and make-up wipes (feeling mildly guilty about the stain that’s bound to be on the white pillow-sheet from falling asleep after, well, _that_ ) when she spots something unfamiliar looking on the desk underneath the lamp.

 

Upon walking over she realizes it’s a card, and it has her name on it. She’s careful unwrapping the envelope, aware of how noisy the dammed things can be.

 

The front of the card is a beautiful floral pattern with a white background. In golden printing it reads _To The Love of My Life on Her Birthday._

She hasn’t even opened the card but a huge smile has already spread across her face. The cheesy romance, the catering to exactly what she likes, the fact that he got up to set out the card for her and turn on the lamp so she’d notice it upon waking up is all so _Scott._ She takes a deep breath and opens up the card, anxious to see what awaits.

 

_T,_

_I’m writing this as you’re asleep. You look so perfect right now; I don’t think you’ll ever fathom just how amazing you are, but I hope one day you do. There is not a day that goes by where I don’t think about the fact that out of everyone in the world, you chose me. I will forever be grateful for that, more than I can put into words._

_I hope you had a good birthday. I promise you I will never stop trying to outdo myself, because it’s what you deserve. You deserve the entire world, and more._

_I love you._

_Scott_

Tessa hasn’t had a chance to remove her eye makeup yet (which is admittedly her own doing) and a few mascara-filled tears are running silently down her cheeks, but she doesn’t care.

 

She _loves_ this man, more than he’ll ever know. It overwhelms her, almost, because it’s bigger than anything she’s ever known. Nearly her entire life has been by his side, and she could never regret that for a single day.

 

She puts the card down gently, standing it up beside the lamp. Walking over to the bed, she sits down tentatively, running her fingers through his hair as he sleeps.

 

“I love you,” she whispers. It’s barely audible, her voice threatening to crack if she speaks any louder, but it’s there.

 

After a moment his eyes open ever so slightly, just enough for them to catch a glimpse of her own, all glossy and emotional.

 

“Tess?” he whispers softly, an underlying layer of concern in his voice. His eyes are wide open now, staring into hers. “You okay?”

 

She chuckles because _of course_ his first instinct would be to ask her if she was okay, when in reality, she couldn’t be better.

 

“Yeah,” she says, smiling down at him, her complete admiration for him rushing through her heart. “Just in love.”

 

It takes him a second to process her words since he’s half asleep, but once he does, his face splits into a full-on grin, and he stares at her like she’s his entire world.

 

Which she is, of course.

 

“Me too,” he mumbles softly, his hand reaching out to stroke her arm.

 

_Damn tooth brushing and makeup removing,_ Tessa thinks to herself. Those things can be caught up with, later. _Moments like these can’t._

 

She slides into bed with him, placing a small, sweet kiss on his lips before curling up under the covers, her arm around his waist, her head resting on his sideways chest, wrapped up in his warmth and love and scent.

 

“Always,” she whispers, sleep threatening to take her under at this very moment.

 

In this moment, everything is _exactly_ as it should be, she thinks.

 

Life couldn’t possibly get any better than this.


End file.
